


We Could Be Immortals

by orphan_account



Category: Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, Fluff, Friends With Benefits, Hate to Love, I guess???, Immorality, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Kinda, M/M, Post-Break Up, Unrequited Love, pink haired pete wentz
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-07-06
Packaged: 2019-05-24 16:14:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 20,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14957909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Mikey Way has been alive too long. It feels like he just can't end. He probably can't. He doesn't know why, all he does know is that it's ruining everything that's important to him.Pete disagrees. Pete thinks Mikey's the one ruining everything. That it's his own fault when everything falls apart.A part of Mikey knows Pete is right, but that doesn't mean he'll admit it. That just isn't how either of them work.





	1. I'm The Last One That You'll Ever Remember

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic. It's shit. Enjoy.

I still care about a dead man. He died so many years ago, but I can’t forget him. Sometimes it makes me sad to know how important he was. How beautiful. He was creative and caring and handsome and never made it into a history book. I shouldn’t care anymore. He wouldn’t if he was in my place. He stopped loving me a long time ago and made that clear when he left. But I guess after all this time I still love him. It’s rather pathetic. In all the darkness I can almost convince myself he’s in the bed with me. That if I turn just slightly I can be face to face with him, and wrap him up in my arms. But no, he’s dead, and I’m alone in this bed. I just wish maybe… maybe we hadn’t fought, and he’d have died still loving me. Or maybe we’d find a way to stop that part entirely and we lived together until the end.

Maybe I should stop taking pills. I always get like this. Nostalgia hits hard, and I feel like ripping my skin off my bones because it’s all too tight. I wonder if that would kill me, or if I’d have to continue on like that. Bare, inside and out. Maybe it’d hurt less like that. Maybe I shouldn’t find out.

My room is too cold. It makes me feel more alone when it’s cold. A long time ago I never got cold. I always had another body pressed against mine. For a while I never knew who’s. I didn’t care either. Until one day I did. I cared who’s body kept me warm and safe and I knew it was always him. But one day it wasn’t him, and I went back to not caring. Eventually I got tired of people altogether. That’s when I grew cold.

It’s my own fault I guess. For even caring in the first place. I knew it couldn’t last. We lived in two very different worlds. His world was young and sick and would end quickly. His world was dangerous and unfamiliar. His world was controlled by others. My world was old and boring and completely on its own. We were doomed from the start but for a little while I didn’t care.

Now, looking back I see how stupid I was for thinking I could ever have that. That I could ever have him. Yet I still feel the same as I did all those years ago.

These are things I should try to sleep off. Deal with in the morning. Or let someone else deal with. I’m selfish like that. Selfish enough to fall asleep.

***

“Mikey,” A disembodied voice calls, “Hey, Mikey,” It sounds familiar, “Wake up you fucknut,” Oh. It’s Gerard. I open my eyes and glare at my brother. He sits on the edge of my bed beaming down at me. He’s opened my curtains, flooding my room with annoyingly bright and happy light.

“What do you want?” I ask grumpily.

“Coffee,” he replies simply.

“Get it yourself,” I say, rolling over to face away from him.

“Nope,” He says, popping the ‘p’ and pushing me off the bed. I fall onto the floor, and though it hurts, I’m tired and have no problem sleeping on floors. Gerard leans over the bed and looks down on me, “We’re going out for coffee together! Brotherly bonding or something.”

“We’ve lived together for, like, three hundred years. We don’t need ‘brotherly bonding’,” I point out.

“Whatever, we’re getting coffee. You need to get out of bed,” He says and disappears from above me. When I stand up he’s completely gone. I sigh, and walk to my closet.

“Fucking hypocrite,” I mutter, “Telling me I spend to much time in bed.” Gerard leaves his room about once a month, not counting his brief trips to the kitchen or bathroom. I have no idea how long I’ve actually been in my room but it can’t be that bad.

I pull on a pair of black skinny jeans and a green sweatshirt over a Morrissey shirt. Then put on my black converse, slip my phone into my pocket and go downstairs to meet Gerard, waiting by the front door.

“Ready to go?” He smiles at me.

“Fuck off.”

“That’s the spirit!”

He opens the door and we walk out. It’s sunny and cool today, and there are people walking up and down the streets, in and out of the surrounding houses. I keep my head down and get into the passenger seat of Gerard’s car. A bright red Volkswagen Beetle, which Gerard chose because, “I get to cause pain with it wherever I go”.

Gerard gets into the driver’s seat and starts the car. As we begin driving down the road I think about last night. I try not to remember my late night thoughts, they’re always kind of fucked up. I guess that shit happens when you’ve been around for so long. You start getting more and more tired, and more and more alone. You grow less and less hopeful till there’s nothing left but a pile of skin and bones, and your crying seems pointless. That’s what I’ll be soon. Whatever.

“So, Mikey,” Here we go, “Are you alright? You’ve been quiet lately.”

“I’m always quiet,” I mumble.

“Yeah, but this is, like, a different quiet. You just seem off,” Gerard glances nervously over to me.

“I’m fine,” I give him a reassuring smile, “Just been thinking a lot.”

“About Peter?”

I stay silent. Gerard knows I don’t like to talk about it but he still brings it up sometimes.

“Mikey, I know this is hard,” Gerard sighs, “But it’s been over two centuries. You haven’t even tried to-”

“I’ve tried to move on!” I snap, because god knows I’ve tried and tried and tried, until it hurts to continue. “I’ve tried, but it doesn’t work,” I repeat, quieter, “Everything just feels so unresolved, like me and him are suspended in the air.”

“But Mikey,” Gerard sounds sad, “He’s dead.”

I don’t say anything. I turn to the window and stay silent the rest of the ride. Curling in on myself, I try to focus on the passing scenery and not the sinking feeling in my stomach or the worried glances Gerard sends me every few seconds.

After what feels like hours, though it’s actually about two minutes, we pull into the cafe parking lot. I step, or more accurately roll, out of the car and onto pavement. The cafe is an old colonial building surrounded by old colonial buildings. It’s blue paint was chipping away and it’s white wooden door looked well worn. The sign above the door has print too small to read. I walk in behind Gerard, looking at my feet the whole time. I walk to a small table in the corner with cozy pleather chairs and sit down as Gerard goes to the counter to order our drinks.

As I wait I pick at the seat, and look around. There are ugly mass produced prints on the ugly orange walls, and an ugly woven carpet on the ugly linoleum floors. There are wooden tables and chair scattered around the place, with few people sitting at them. There’s only three people here aside from me and Gerard. The barista, a man with kind eyed and a mass of curly hair, a girl with jet black hair falling down to her lower back, and a guy with his back to me. I find him the most interesting of the three so I study him in greater detail. He has bright pink hair, honey colored skin, and tattoos covering his arms. He’s sitting down, making it hard to tell, but he seems to have a short yet broad build. He wears a grey tank top and black jeans. I can’t see his face, but I immediately feel attracted to him. I watch for a bit as he takes sips from his cup and looks at his phone. It’s a simple action that seems to have me mesmerized.

“Dude, don’t stare at people,” Gerard breaks me from my gaze as he strolls over with two coffee cups in his hands. He hands one to me as he sits in the chair opposite me.

“I wasn’t staring,” I mumble.

“You were and it’s weird. You’re a creepy little fucker Mikey Way,” He says, bit too loudly cause I see the pink haired guy look up. He glances around the room (nervously?) before looking back at his phone. I didn’t get a good look at his face, but he looked familiar. Probably someone I’ve seen getting groceries.

“Whatever,” I sigh, taking a sip of my coffee. More like chugging my coffee. It's already empty. So is Gerard's. That's just how we are.

“So, is he cute?”

“What?”

“The guy you were staring at. You usually keep to yourself. So I assume he’s cute.”

“I didn’t see his face.”

“Well go look at it!”

“What?”

“See if he’s cute so you can finally get some and move on.” Easier said than done.

“How?”

“Throw out our trash,” Gerard says, gesturing to the trash can located by the guy’s table.

“Are you just trying to get me to throw out your cup?” I ask giving Gerard a glare. He holds his cup out, which I reluctantly take. I trudge over to the trash, throw out my cup, and sneak a glance at the guy. Well, it was supposed to be a glance, but as soon as I saw his face I felt stuck.

I think I’m gonna be sick. He looks up at me, and as we make eye contact it feels like everything stops. It’s just us, us, us. His face has turned into something along the lines of fear. Oh god, I’ve scared him with my staring. It’s not my fault. I can’t help it. He looks exactly as he did the last time I saw him. Aside from the hair, which is no longer it’s black and curly self, and the tattoos. He looks exactly as he was. But it’s not him, it can’t be. He died. This is a stranger and I’m staring at him as though he means something. Fuck.

I’m gonna be sick. I’m gonna be sick. He’s looking at me. He knows I’m here. I’m gonna be sick. Oh god, someone kill me. Oh god, oh god, oh god.

I run out as fast as I possibly can without looking like I’m actually running. I don’t want to look like I’m trying to escape, though I guess I am.

I throw open the car door, climb in and try to breath. I’d forgotten to do that when I saw him. I have to breath. Breath, breath, breath.

“Well, he was either really cute really ugly. What happened?” Gerard climbs into his seat and put a hand on my shaking back. When did I start shaking?

“He was cute,” I mutter, and god was he cute, “Gee, he looked just like him.”

“Like who?”

“P-Peter.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean he looked like a clone of him or something! Everything was the same!”

“Do you think it was… Do think that’s him?”

“Of course not! He’s dead-”

“We didn’t see him die, or hear anything about it. What if he was like us?”

“No, I can’t,” I struggle to find the right words. How do I phrase what I’m feeling. Why don’t I want it to be him? It doesn’t make sense, “I can’t let it be him.” Good enough.

“Why not?” Gerard rubs my back, and I feel tears start to slide down my cheeks. There goes all of my dignity, down my face in the form of tears. I try to choke out a response for a while but the tears.

After about a minute I finally manage, “I c-can’t get my hopes up, if it ends up not being him… besides, last t-time he saw me he made it clear he w-wanted it to stay like that. A l-last time. That guy in there isn’t Peter, o-okay? He’s just some guy who looks like h-him,” I get out.

“Okay,” Gerard sighs, clearly wanting me to stop crying. I want me to stop too. Trying to comfort me he says, “let’s go home alright? We can just watch Buffy and eat grotesque amounts of junk food? Forget this happened?” I nod and he nods back.

Gerard starts the car and we drive home in silence. I begin to calm down and I wipe the tears off my face.

Once we get inside we head to the kitchen, stalk up on chips and soda, then go down to the basement where the T.V. is. Gerard wraps us up in blankets as we go on a Buffy binge. It’s comforting and I feel better, but something still lingers at the back of my mind. He still lingers at the back of my mind. Around half way through Puppet Show I fall asleep still thinking of the pink haired boy and Peter. I guess I’ll never be free of him.


	2. Since I Been Seeing Your Face

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's chapter 2. to the one person that's actually reading, suffer.

It’s been about two weeks since I’ve seen the pink haired guy. It felt like less. I shouldn’t drink as much as I do. I know it’s unhealthy, but I can’t die so what does it really matter? I have all the time in the world so even if I spend a few years drunk that’s nothing in the long run.

Gerard tells me it still matters because a few years will still take its toll. I guess he’d know. He used to spend his every waking moment drunk or high. He told me it didn’t matter but eventually it did. Even if it couldn’t kill him physically it definitely did mentally. After awhile of booze and pills and cocaine and who knows what else, he became suicidal and had to quit. I don’t know if immortality makes suicidal better or worse, but either way Gerard went through some tough shit and I’m proud of him. I should also probably listen to him. Yeah, starting tomorrow I’ll stop. Today, however, I drown out the sorrows of being in love with a pissed off dead man in alcohol. Lots of it.

I guess Gerard doesn’t have a problem with my current pass time right now, as he bursts into my room screaming, “Get of your ass, Mikey, We’re going to a concert!”

“Why?” I groan.

“Because your being a sad little bitch, locked up in your room. You gotta go interact with someone!” Gerard says waving his hands around, as he often does.

“You’re one to talk. Besides I’m interacting with someone right now, his name is Samuel,” I say lifting my beer bottle.

“Really, Mikey?” Gerard gives me a look, “You need to get over this. It has literally been centuries. Literally.”

“I get that dude, but I can’t help it,” I say, shrugging, “I never got my closure I guess.”

Gerard sighs, “Come on man, you like shows. You can just go and listen to the music, alright? I’m not asking you to hook up with someone.”

His eyes look sad and pleading, so I give in, “Fine,” I mutter and roll out of bed.

Gerard smiles and walks out. I slip on my converse by my bedroom door, take a final swig from my beer and head out into the disgustingly populated night.

***

The show is in an old warehouse that’s nearly fallen apart. We had to drive about 40 minutes to get here, since it’s in the city and I didn’t really appreciate that, especially after seeing the building. I doubt we were actually allowed in there but kids didn’t care about that shit. They didn’t care that this building would probably fall down tonight, or that we could get arrested, or anything. They just wanted to have fun. I wish I was like that.

While Gerard and I climbed the stairs to the top of the building people around us acted as if we had already reached the party, despite being about ten floors away. I don’t know who decided to have a party so high up, without even an elevator. Seems stupid.

After what felt like hours we reached the top. The band was in the middle of a song. Kids all around us drank and smoked and laughed. The lights were a neon blue and a fog covered the room. It stayed that way the whole party. Bodies pushing bodies, and smiles pushing frowns. But not me, I stayed at the back by the bar, sulking and getting wasted. If I’m being completely honest, I’d glance around the crowd every so often, looking for bright pink hair.

This is stupid. Banging music. Drugs and drinks. Hot men. Hot women. Why am I hung up on some guy I don’t even know. I could be having a good time. I could dance with the vibrating sounds of the bass. I could get high and laugh with people. I could hook up with some random person with brightly colored hair and darkly colored clothes. I could do anything and everything. I could almost even forget.

I look around. Look for anyone who could get him out of my head, even if it’s just for tonight. I make eye contact with someone, eventually. In the blue lights and fog I can barely tell what he looks like. I don’t really care. I can see enough to know he’s hot, and since this is a one night stand that’s all that matters, right?

Within minutes we’re pressed together. As we make out he grinds against me. This is fine. My hands in his brown locks. His hands on my ass. This is fine. It feels good. And I don’t wish his hair was a little bit shorter and a little pinker. I don’t wish his arms were a little more inked or that his face was a little less sharp. I don’t. This is fine. It’s good. He’s a good kisser, and his hands feel nice as they explore my body. I don’t wish they were a little rougher, calluses on the tips like a guitar player. I don’t know why I would. After two hundred years I definitely shouldn’t.

“Mikey!”

I think it’s Gerard. Whatever he wants it can wait. I’m busy.

“Mikey!”

He calls again and again until finally, I pull away from the guy.

“The fuck do you want? I’m busy!” I snap.

“We gotta go,” Gerard replies. He looks sweaty. He’s probably been dancing.

“Really?” I ask gesturing to the guy who moments earlier had his tongue down my throat. I’d like it back there soon.

“Yes,” Gerard sighs, “Can’t you get laid some other time? We really have to go.”

Then, I notice his slightly desperate tone. Something’s happened, so I nod and say my goodbyes to the guy. As we walk out Gerard seems twitchy, walking fast and curling in on himself. Like he needs to get out of here. All the way down the now empty stairs we stay uncomfortably silent. The party in full swing above us gets quieter and quieter as we descend.  

When we reach the car I ask, “What happened?”

“I sorta ran into this guy who had, like, a bunch of drinks and shit, I think it was for some girls he was trying to get with, so anyway, I walked into him and he spilled everything. He was sorta a buff angry guy so, um, yeah. Totally the type to beat up a dork with bright red hair and a Star Wars shirt. Thought I should get outta there,” He explains, all in one breath.

I nod and he starts the car. Another 40 minutes driving back home. Yay.

Driving gets old. Everything starts to look the same. All the roads and trees and lights start to blend together in the dark night. To pass the time I count houses we pass on the highway. Who the fuck wants to live on a highway? About 15 minutes into the drive Gerard speaks up.

“So you got with someone tonight?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you think you’re over him yet?”

“I don’t think one kiss with a stranger will do that.”

“How do you still love him after all this time?”

“I don’t know. I wish I didn’t.”

“Why?”

“You know why. It hurts.”

“It’ll get better.”

“When?”

“I don’t know.”

“I’m sick of this. Why can’t I move on like a normal person.”

“You’re not normal.”

“I wish we could die,” I admit. It’s depressing but Gerard will understand. Being alive for 300 years gets old after a while. Our immortality didn’t even come with cool powers. It’s more of a curse. I think Gerard gets that. I think he knows what I meant when I said that, because he responds with a sad sigh,

“So do I.”

Yeah, we’ve been cursed. We’ve been cursed with immortality, and depressive tendencies, obsessive personalities, and the inability to move on. We’ll never move on.


	3. I Wish I Cared Enough To Know

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pink haired pete gives me life. that's all.

I fucking hate working. It wouldn’t be so bad except I’ve been doing for three hundred years. Despite our age Gerard and I can’t seem to get a good job, so we’re always just scraping by. Pretty much bullshit. I just want a break. I just want to be able to use this life I didn’t want to begin with.

This job is decent I guess. The pay isn’t great, but I get to work with icecream so it’s alright. Spending hours taking orders and scooping ice cream isn’t ideal but at least it isn’t as hot as working with the animals or out on the golf course.

The farm I work for is pretty impressive. While most people know it as an ice cream shop, it has a lot more going on. Bumper boats, mini golf, baseball, a zip line, and animals. Ice cream has the best pay and air conditioning so I’m lucky I got that. I could be out picking up horse shit. 

Today the lines are long. This place is really popular in the area, so even on it’s slow days we’re pretty busy. Today, however, the lines reach into the parking lot. People toward the front try to cram themselves under the porch roof to hide from the sun. Usually we leave a few windows closed, but today we have them all open, each one occupied by a teenager taking ice cream orders from sweating customers. As I listen to the order of a middle aged woman surrounded by an entire soccer team I fail to see the man behind her. I don’t notice him as I hand the team their desert a few minutes later either. I finally notice him as the boys begin moving towards the tables.

“Mocha chip,” He says coldly. His chocolate eyes are dark and his mouth is curled into a slight frown. Probably because of the cafe.

“Alright, what size?” I ask, trying to hide my blush.

“Large,” He replies shortly. Okay, he seems actually pissed. I guess it makes sense. I was pretty awkward last time we saw each other. Probably freaked him out.

“Ok, 1.99 please.”

He hands me the money and I’m about to turn away when he adds, “So what the fuck was with you at that cafe?” Shit.

“What?”

“The cafe. You were staring at me like a killed your mom or something.”

“I… Sorry you just looked like someone,” I stammer out, blushing like mad now.

“Well it was pretty fucking weird,” He spits, and wow is he pissed, “Just staring at me and then running? You must really hate whoever you thought I was.”

“Listen man, I get it was weird, but I’ve got a whole fucking line of people who want ice cream, so can you bitch later?” I snap, getting a bit pissed now. He’s definitely gonna get me in trouble and that’s pretty bad, no matter how hot he is. 

“Whatever,” He glares, “Just get me my ice cream and that’ll be the last we see of eachother.”

“Yeah.” No. No, I want to see him more. He’s a dick but I want to see him more. I  just do. I don’t know why. But he doesn’t want to see me so this is it I guess. One ice cream and then I’m alone again. Not that I wasn’t alone with him here, cause we aren’t together. I think he’s a replacement for Peter. Just a substitution. So maybe it’s better if we don’t see each other again. 

After I give him his ice cream he gives me one final glare and leaves. That’s over with now. I won’t have to see that asshat again. Good. That’s good. Yeah.

***

“Are you good, Mikes?”

“Hm?” I turn to Gerard, who’s drawing something next to me on the porch swing.

“You got this pissy vibe,” He explains, not looking up from his sketch.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Dunno. You just seem pissy. Anything happen?”

I think about lying and saying everything’s fine, but this is Gerard, “You remember that guy at the cafe. The one with pink hair?”

“The one who looked like Peter? Yeah, I remember him,” Gerard replies, then looks up with wide eyes, “Wait, shit what did you do?”

“Nothing! I was working at the farm and he came up to my window and started bitching!”

“What?”

“I don’t fucking know, man. He was pissed about the cafe. Like, really pissed.”

Gerard hums a bit, before turning back to his sketch. He leans forward a bit and the chair sways. I have no idea why he likes sitting out here, but he always makes me sit with him. He draws and I watch cars go by. Today it’s super sunny so I have to wear sunglasses. My eyes have been really sensitive since I got lasik surgery.

“Do you think that’s all he was mad about?” Gerard asks after a few minutes.

I stare at him, “What would he be mad about? We’ve literally never seen each other before then.”

“Mikey, you know what I’m talking about. What if it really is him?”

“It’s not.”

“But it could-”

“It couldn’t. Leave it alone, Gee.”

“Fine.

We sit in silence after that. I count cars that pass by and Gerard draws. After counting ten cars I get bored and start counting passing dogs.

_ One. _

_ Two. _

_ Three, four. _

_ Cat? _

_ Five. _

Soon, that gets boring and I head inside. I head to the basement to watch some T.V. but the shitty sitcom can’t hold my interest. All I can think of is what Gerard said. What if it was Peter? Then he’s mad at me. And if it’s not Peter than he’s just a very small angry man, who seems to want me dead, which isn’t much better. It’s not him, I tell myself. But what if it is? But it isn’t.

I fall asleep on the couch and wake up sore. I dreamt about explosions. I could see people burning and hear their screams. It was vivid and I just ran, ran, ran. Passing by Gerard, and passing my  mother, my father, and finally him. He was the only one to see me. He glared at me, told me I should save him, but I ran. When I finally stopped running I cried. Then, I died. 

I was left with one thing after that dream. A sick feeling of guilt. I’d realized I’d been using my life wrong, running instead of saving. But, I’ve already made my choice so I’m not stopping now.


	4. Well There's No Way I'm Kissing That Guy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk what chapter i'm on

You always know when it’s October. Back to School ads stop playing and Halloween becomes our culture. Gerard, being the theatrical nerd he is, always goes all out on decorations. Even though it’s only the first week of October he’s already decorating. I, being an amazing brother, help out a lot.

“Mikey, do you think we should put candy in a cauldron this year?” Gerard asks, peering over the cobwebs he’s setting up on the porch to look at me. 

Looking up from the styrofoam graves I’ve been placing in our yard I say, “Definitely. And we should have a fog machine.”

“Hell yeah!” 

It’s always fun decorating with Gerard. By the end our house always looks completely insane, no matter the importance of the holiday. We’ve made a lot of neighbors into enemies with our extraordinary decorating skills. On the Fourth Of July we had fireworks projected onto our house, and the elderly couple down the street gave us dirty looks for a month. When I think about it, considering our financial state, we don’t spend our money very wisely. One of us is gonna have to get a real job soon, preferably not me.

I wonder if someday I’ll ever have a real job. If I’ll ever have a real friend. If I’ll ever have a real love. If I’ll ever have a real life. If I’ll ever have a real death. I want to be normal. I wish I had died back in the 1700s like I should have. I was born in 1680, I shouldn’t have lived passed 1850. Yet, here I am, in 2018. I hate years. It makes me realize how long I haven’t been normal. It’s all I want. To be normal. And for Gerard to be normal. He doesn’t deserve this. He’s too kind to have to suffer this long. His heart’s too big to handle this. Not mine, though. I’m just an asshole.  I probably do deserve this. 

“Damn, you guys like Halloween,” A voice says, breaking me from my thoughts. I turn to see who the voice belongs to. In our driveway stands a short (like,  _ very  _ short) man. His black hair is long, down do his shoulders. He’s covered in tattoos. I think I’ve seen him before.

“Yeah, it’s pretty great,” Gerard responds, leaving the porch to greet the man. I follow him over shortly after.

“Yeah, it’s a rad holiday,” He says and holds up his hands, showing his knuckles. The inked on letters read out ‘HALLOWEEN’. “I’m Frank, by the way. I live down the street.”

“I’m Gerard and this is Mikey,” Gerard says gesturing between us, and pushing red strands of hair from his face. 

“Hey, are you in a band?” I blurt out.

“Oh, um, yeah. Pencey Prep, you heard of it?” Frank gives me a questioning look.

“We went to a show back in August, didn’t we, Gee?”

“Oh yeah! At the warehouse! You guys were really fucking good!” Gerard says, face lighting up. After the show he had talked a lot about the band, saying they were really good, though Mikey hadn’t actually listened. 

“Thanks,” Frank says, smiling brightly.

Gerard and Frank happily continue conversing while I stand off to the side awkwardly. The two of them seem to become quick friends and as I listen on I decide I definitely like Frank. Gerard does too, judging by the way his mouth never seems to shut. He’s typically a quiet guy, but when he likes someone he can talk for ages.

“I like your hair,” Frank says at one point, pointing to Gerard’s bright red locks.

Gerard blushes slightly and says a quiet, “Thanks.”

“It’s like a fire truck!” Frank enthuses, and he reminds me a bit of an over excited puppy, “Or a hot cheeto! You’re like a hot cheeto!”

Gerard giggles. Fucking  _ giggles _ . I swear to god, these two will be fucking in another minute. I don’t want to be there for that because, ew, that’s my brother.

“I’m gonna head inside,” I turn to walk towards the door before whispering in Gerard’s ear, “Use protection,” and then I’m off. I don’t need to look back to know Gerard’s turned to a blushing mess.

***

When Gerard comes back into the house a few hours later he immediately heads to the kitchen for coffee. I get up from my place on the couch and follow him in a very little brother manner.

“So where have you been?” I ask, grinning smugly.

“Frank’s,” Gerard replies as he works on his coffee.

“Oh, did you have fun?” I ask with mock-innocence. 

“Yeah, we had a nice conversation about how much of a bitch you can be. It’s nice to finally know someone who believes I live with the devil.”

“So did that happen before or after sex?”

“We didn’t have sex, Mikey. We just talked. Frank’s straight anyway.”

“How do you know?”

“He told me. We got into a conversation on queer rights,” Gerard finishes his coffee and walks off.

“Maybe he’s bendy?” I follow Gerard out of the kitchen, back to the living room, “No one can resist you, Gee.”

“Okay, well I don’t want to fuck him anyway,” Gerard states matter-of-factly. 

“Well, first of all, you’d be getting fucked, you little bottom. Second, you totally want him in your ass.”

“You are the weirdest brother in the world.”

“Thanks.”

After that we move in and out of conversations. We talk mostly about movies and shows.I’d forgotten how nice it was to just sit and talk to Gerard like normal people. I’ve been really busy off in my own mind lately, thinking about Peter and asshole pink haired guy and trying to drown all that out with drinking. I’ve practically ignored Gerard since the beginning of the summer and now I feel sorta guilty.

“How’ve you been, Gee?” I ask seriously.

“Fine?” He gives me a questioning look, “Why?”

“I just feel like we haven’t talked in a while. I’ve been distant lately, haven’t I?”

“Yeah, sorta. It’s alright, Mikes, I get you’ve got a lot on your mind.”

“That doesn’t mean I should ignore you though. Just cause I’m fucked up doesn’t mean I can get out of that stuff.”

“Really, Mikey it’s fine. Nothing happens to me anyway,” Gerard shrugs. 

“That’s not better, Gee! Plenty of stuff happens to you! Like, how’s work been?”

“Fine, I guess. Sorta boring.”

“Gerard, c’mon. You gotta help me out here,” I plead, “I’m trying to be more involved in your life, but that won’t happen if you don’t tell me about it!”

“Mikey, nothing happens. And I’m not mad at you for being distant. You don’t need to feel guilty or anything.”

“You’re impossible! Just tell me something!”

“Fine. I… hm,” Gerard thinks for a bit, like it’s difficult to find a noteworthy moment in his week, “Oh! I got invited to a party!”

“Really?” I ask, because that doesn’t happen very often. Me and Gerard don’t talk to others that often, because then we might make friends, which inevitably hurts.

“Yeah, Frank asked if we could go to his birthday party,” Gerard confirms, “It’s on Halloween, so he apparently throws a big blow out party every year. He said he’d kill us if we didn’t go.”

“Man, I wish,” I laugh.

“Mikey,” Gerard scolds.

“Oh, c’mon, man. You know I didn’t mean it that way,” I try comforting him with a pat on the back. Sometimes he gets sensitive about my hatred towards immortality.

“I know. I just-” He sighs, “I wish this was easier.”

“Me too.”

“Like, I don’t really want to die anymore. I want to see the world change, I don’t want to miss things. But then I also just get really tired. Sometimes I’m scared by how different things get.”

“I know, Gee.” That’s the difference between us. Gerard, despite his fear, wants to keep seeing the world. I’m done. I’ve been done for a while. The world won’t let either of us be done though, so I guess we just gotta lighten the mood.

“So you think anything will happen at Frank’s party?” I ask a few minutes later, a smirk on my face.

“Oh, fuck off.”

Lighten the mood.


	5. Get Up And Go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it was the last day of school

Halloween is the best day of the year. You can dress up without seeming weird, eat a shitload of candy, and get wasted. It also happens to be my birthday, so I get presents and an awesome party. This year is bigger than ever. Everyone I know is here, and so is everyone they know.

Gerard is here too. He’s never been to one of my parties so I feel the need to make sure he has an amazing time. I’ve hung out with him and his brother Mikey a few times after meeting them and they’re pretty rad. Mikey keeps to himself a lot, so I don’t know him as well as Gerard. He seems sad, though. And a bit angry. Gerard, on the other hand seems pretty happy. We’ve known each other less than a month but I feel like I already know him well. He’s just like… like someone I’m just  _ supposed  _ to be friends with. Like we’re just meant to be friends.

I’ve been keeping an eye out for him all night, and when I see him and Mikey walk in looking small and anxious, I immediately ditch whatever conversation I was having and run over to them.

“Gerard! Mikey! Glad you made it!” I shout over the noise of the party, and throw my arm around Gerard’s shoulder.

“Yeah, cool party,” Gerard responds with a small smile. 

I grin back at him, “I know, right? I was getting worried you guys wouldn’t show and I’d have to kill you.”

“Good luck,” Mikey mutters, as Gerard says, “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

‘So you guys want a drink?” I ask.

“Yes,” Mikey responds immediately, and Gerard gives him an anxious look.

“I’m fine,” He mumbles.

After that Mikey disappears in search of alcoholic beverages. Me and Gerard sit on a couch and talk.

“Happy birthday,” Gerard grins.

“Thanks. It’s been pretty great so far,” I say as I take a sip from my beer. “Kinda disappointed it couldn’t be a costume party, though. My AC broke and at a party like this you don’t want to be wearing an excess of clothes.”

Gerard laughs, “Well you could have had everyone dress in slutty costumes.”

“Oh, man! How did I not think of that? That could have been great”

“Yeah. Lots of attractive people with limited clothes,” Gerard agrees.

I’d kinda like to see you in limited clothes, I think to myself. That’s something I definitely can’t say since me and Gerard are friends and I’m ‘straight’. I’d kinda like to tell him. Not that I want to fuck him, just that I’m into dick. My family’s pretty conservative so I never came out. I know my friends wouldn’t mind but I guess I’ve got some internalized shit. I know for a fact Gerard would have absolutely no problem with me being gay, he’s very outspoken on his opinions of gay rights, but whenever I think about telling him I get worried he’ll realize I like him and then he won’t want to be friends. 

“Yeah, I bet Mikey would look hot as a slutty nurse,” I say with a wink. I decide that teasing is better than confronting.

“Dude, that’s my brother. Ew.”

“I’m just saying,” I laugh, “If I had the chance I would fuck Mikey.” I think part of me is hoping Gerard will realize I’m not talking about Mikey.

“Good thing you’re not getting the chance, then. I’d rather not think about you two fucking,” Gerard says.

“Who says I won’t get a chance? I bet Mikey would totally want my dick up his ass!”

“Naw, he only wants one dick and it ain’t yours.”

“Oh, he has a boyfriend? He never talks about him,” I haven’t known the Way brothers that long, but it seems weird that Mikey wouldn’t ever bring up a boyfriend.

“No, he’s still hung up on his ex. Won’t let himself move on,” Gerard says sadly. 

“Oh. That sucks,” I say, taking another swig from my bottle. “You sure you don’t want a beer or something, man?”

“Yeah, I don’t drink,” He replies blushing.

“Really?” It kinda surprises me. Gerard seems like the kind of guy who would drink.

“Really. I had some problems with it in the past, so…”

“Oh, shit sorry man! I didn’t mean to-”

“No, it’s fine. It was a long time ago, I just like to be careful.”

“Yeah, yeah, totally.” Now I feel like a dick. Gerard looks uncomfortable now. Fuck.

***

I don’t know how much I’ve had to drink. A lot I guess. My head is spinning and it’s hard to think. Gerard and Frank are inside talking and I don’t know anyone else here. I sit alone in Frank’s backyard with a cigarette to keep me warm. I’m drunk enough to let my mind wander, something I don’t let it do when sober. Of course, it wanders to Peter. His cheerful brown eyes, and warm smile, and curly black hair. His smooth skin, and soft lips, and rough fingers from playing guitar. I wonder if, where ever he is, he’s thinking of me. I hope so. I hope he’s forgiven me.

***

“Really Frank, we can walk back to our house. It’s not far.”

“Dude, Mikey’s about to pass out any second. He literally won’t make it past the door. Just stay in the guest room!” I say and Gerard looks like he wants to argue.

“Fine,” He gives in, “I’ll take him up to bed.”

Gerard carries his drunk brother up the stairs to the guest room. A few of my friends decided to crash here after the party, partly because they were too drunk to drive home, partly because they wanted to do more stuff together tomorrow. I figure Gerard and Mikey can join us. My friends will definitely like them, so why not just add them to the group?

I say good night to the five guys staying in my living room and head upstairs. I climb into bed and try to fall asleep. The house is silent. The entire neighborhood probably is. It’s all peaceful and calm and a pleasant kind of dark. 

I’m excited for tomorrow. My friends wanted to go down to the beach, since I’ve just moved and haven’t seen it yet. Despite it being fall they said it’s still warm during daytime. The locals seem pretty prideful of their beach. Now Gerard and Mikey are coming, and maybe I’ll get to see Gerard topless and wet…

Okay, no. I can’t think like that. We’re friends, it’s weird. But I can’t deny he’d look good in nothing but soaked swim trunks. Jesus, I’m such a fucking pervert. 

Still, I’m excited to get to hangout with my friends. And to get them to hangout with the Ways. They’ll be instant friends. Tomorrow will be good.


	6. The Torture Of Small Talk (With Someone You Used To Love)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> craisins don't really exist

I wake up with a headache. I probably overdid it last night, since I rarely get hungover.  I slowly open my eyes and realize I’m not in my bed. After a moment of panic I realize it’s probably Frank’s house. I sit up and smooth my hair back. Light streams in through the window, obnoxiously bright. I stand up and decide to search for water to sooth my desert of a mouth. I hear someone taking a shower as I pass what must be the bathroom, and as I had downstairs I hear people talking.

I head to where I remember the kitchen being and see a group of five men sitting around Frank’s table. None of them have noticed me. I get a glass off the counter and fill it in the sink. That’s when Frank sees me.

“Mikey, you’re up, man!” He shouts, and my head throbs. The table turns to look at me. “Dude, it’s almost noon! Even Gerard was up before you!” I nod and nurse my water.

“Oh, I forgot! We were all gonna go to the beach. Wanna come?”

“Sure,” I mutter. I don’t feel like arguing. Knowing Frank, that would happen if I said no.

“Great!” He beams, “I should introduce, then. Mikey this is Patrick, Ray, Brendon, and Ryan,” He says, pointing to each man as he names them.

Patrick has blonde hair, glasses and a fedora. He wears a button up shirt and a cardigan, too. He smiles at me and gives a small wave.

Ray has a mass of curly brown hair and a pleasant smile. I remember him at the cafe the day I met asshole pink haired guy. He was the barista. Shit. I hope he doesn’t talk about it.

Brendon has brown hair and a large forehead. His dark brown eyes have a mischievous glint and his arm is wrapped around the final guy’s shoulder.

The last guy, Ryan, has similar hair to Brendon’s, though a bit lighter. His round face gives him an innocent look, which contrasts with Brendon’s vibe of actual Satan.

I awkwardly wave to them and sit down in an empty chair next to Ray. We all talk for a while. Frank’s friends are all pretty cool, and I decide I like them a lot. Gee comes down at one point and says he’s going to pick up a change of clothes for us. 

As we debate the best Star Wars movie another man stumbles into the kitchen, like he’s half asleep. I hardly notice him as I watch Frank and Brendon’s heated debate on Darth Vader.

“Hey Pete,” Patrick calls, and gets nothing but a tired grunt in response. ‘Pete’ sits down in the empty seat next to me and slams his hooded head on the table.

“Wow Pete. Can’t believe you actually woke up. Thought maybe you’d died,” Ryan says sarcastically. Pete gives him the finger without looking up.

“Wish I could, Ryan. Wish I could,” He mutters. Sounds familiar.

“Oh, Pete,” Frank says, breaking away from his argument now that he’s realized his friend is here, “This is Mikey. He’s coming to the beach with us.

“Hey,” Pete says as he looks up. As soon as our eyes meet we freeze. There he is, asshole pink haired guy, sitting next to me.

“Oh fuck,” Pete groans and slams his head back down.

Everyone stays silent for a minute, confused and uncomfortable before Brendon asks, “Am I missing something? Do you know each other?”

“He’s the guy from the coffee shop,” Pete mutters.

“You’re coffee shop guy?” Frank says, eyes wide.

“Yeah, I’m coffee shop guy,” I mumble, blushing and looking at my hands on the table.

“What did you do to piss him off so much?” Ryan asks curiously.

“I don’t know, I-”

“You know what you fucking did!” Pete yells and looks up to meet my eyes. When I look at him I know. I know it’s him. And he’s fucking pissed.

I feel my eyes sting, and I whisper, “I’m sorry.”

“That’s about two hundred years late, bitch! Why can’t you just get the fuck out of my life?” He storms off into the living room.

“I’ll go calm him down,” Patrick mutters, then gets up to follow him.

I feel tears fall down my face. Fuck, I don’t want to cry in front of a bunch of people. I run out of the kitchen and out the front door. The whole time I hear Frank calling, telling me to stop. I do stop eventually. I’m dehydrated and I feel dizzy before even leaving Frank’s yard, so I just collapse on the sidewalk. I sit there for what seems like forever, crying. I don’t care that it’s the middle of the day and people can see me. I just want to stay here and cry. Then, I feel a pair of arms wrap around my body and I’m being picked up. Through teary eyes I see Ray’s blurry outline. He carries me inside and back to the room I woke up in. Nearly as soon as I’m put down I pass out. I don’t have any dreams.

***

When I wake up Gerard is sitting next to me on the bed. He smiles comfortingly when he sees I’m awake.

“Hey, how are you?”

“I’ve been better,” I mumble.

“We’re about to leave. You still up for it?” I nod. I really don’t want to go but I also don’t want Pete to think he can win just like that. I don’t want him to think he can get rid of me by just being there. These are my friends too.

“I’ll be fine,” I say and sit up. Gerard nods and hands my a pile of clothes from beside him.

“Thought you might want to change before we go. You don’t smell great.”

“You’re one to talk,” I tease and he laughs weakly.

“I’ll be waiting downstairs with everyone.”

I nod. When he leaves I get changed. A pair of black jeans and a T-shirt Gerard got me for my birthday one year that says “Mikey Fuckin Way”. I chuckle before putting it on and heading downstairs. The guys are all standing around the door, the way you do when you don’t want to make it obvious you’re itching to leave. Pete stands towards the back, curling in on himself a bit. I turn to Gerard when he looks up. 

“You sure you’re good?” Gerard asks quietly. I nod.

We all pile into Frank’s van, aside from Ryan and Brendon, who have their own car. Frank drives and Gerard takes the passenger seat so they can  flirt talk. Ray and Patrick had raced to get the middle seats, with a cooler between them. That leaves me and Pete in the back. god is cruel.

Pete shoots me a glare before climbing in back. I follow, ducking my head so it doesn’t hit the ceiling. During the drive Pete makes sure to sit as far from me as possible and never make eye contact, not that I’ve been trying to. Up front Patrick, Ray, Gerard, and Frank alternate between cheerful conversations and singing along to the CD Frank’s put in. I look over at Pete every so often. Pete always seems to be looking at his armrest.

After about ten minutes I hear Pete whisper, “How’d we get here?” It’s so quiet I almost miss it. 

“I don’t know,” I say back, just as quiet. I don’t look at him and I can tell he’s not looking at me. I don’t know why we can’t look at eachother. I think that’s part of what Pete is asking.

“I really loved you, you know.”

“I loved you too.”

“Bullshit.”

“It’s not. I really did.”

“You wouldn’t have done that if you did.”

“But that’s why I did it.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“None of this does.”

“I still hate you.”

“I know.”

After that Pete stays silent. The car ride continues for another twenty minutes before we arrive at the beach.

Gerard pulls me aside as the others look for Ryan and Brendon, who’d arrived a few minutes earlier.

“Was that okay?” He asked in a hushed voice.

“I guess.” I reply.

“Okay. If you get too uncomfortable just tell me, alright? We can just leave,” He looks at me expectantly.

“I’ll be fine,” I assure him. 

He nods and we go to join our group. Since It’s November no one else is here. We lay down a towel and Ray sets up the umbrella. Patrick has set down the cooler and is now helping Ryan with the chairs. They hadn’t expected the two extra people so they were short on chairs. Frank had offered to share with Gerard, and by that he meant sit on his lap. I had assured everyone I’d be fine sitting on the ground.

“It’s cause he’s a dirty little bitch,” Pete had added helpfully. 

Frank set down his speaker so they could listen to music as they talked. Everyone seemed to enjoy themselves. Me and Pete stayed out of each other’s way mostly. I thought maybe this could work. Me and Gerard could really have a friend group, and even if Pete was in it, we’d just ignore the other’s presence and be fine. We couldn’t do that, though. Because Pete is too hot headed to ignore me and I’m too in love. It’s nice to think this could go well, though.

The guys had started going around telling embarrassing stories of the others. Everyone laughed along to Brendon’s story of how Ryan had gotten the wrong number of a pizza place and called a strip club instead. Everyone aside from Pete, who was watching the waves. At some point Brendon turned to Gerard and asked,

“So what dirt you got on precious little Mikey?”

Gerard grinned evilly and began a story, “Well, at one point me and Mikes were living in New York. So, like, Mikey had had a bad day so he decided to get hammered,” Pete seems to start paying attention now, “So he came back to our apartment at, like, 3AM. He did that a lot back then so I didn’t notice anything weird until a few minutes later this homeless man walked in. When I asked Mikey why he was there Mikey said, and I quote, “We’re getting married, Gerard. This is the 19th century, stop being so small minded!”. Then we couldn’t get the guy to leave for, like, a week.”

Pete bursts out laughing, “You fucking proposed to a homeless guy!” He cries, “Man, Mikey, I knew you were fucked up, but this? Even worse than the whore!”

“The what?” Gerard asks from under Frank. 

I look down as Pete speaks again, “What, he didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“Why I left him! He cheated on me with a prostitute! A fucking prostitute!”

Everyone looks at me. I look at the towel beneath me.

“You dated?” Ray says eventually.

“Unfortunately,” Pete replies.

“Mikey, what the fuck?” Gerard then yells.

“I-”

“You cheated on him? And then you spend all this time acting like he just left for no reason! I was always trying to comfort you cause ‘it’s not your fault’! You cheated! It is your fault!”

I stay silent. Everyone is quiet, waiting for me to speak. I don’t know what to say. How do I make this alright? It isn’t alright. I fucked up. I cheated and lied and now I’ll lose the friends I just got and I’ll lose Pete and I’ll lose Gerard. I can’t lose Gerard, he’s all I’ve got. I’ve got to fix this.

“I-I’m sorry,” I choke out.

“Then why the fuck did you do it?” Gerard yells.

I feel like my voice doesn’t work. All I can manage is a whisper, “I was scared.”

No one hears it, though, cause it’s covered by a low rumble. We look up to see a grey sky.

“We should head home,” Patrick says. Everyone agrees and they pack up while I stand to the side, silently. Everyone seems pissed off. I don’t want to be here anymore.

The car ride home is nothing like the one before. Everything is silent.


	7. Say I Never Mattered

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk

After Frank dropped everyone else off he took my and Gerard home. He said an awkward goodbye to my brother, gave me a slight nod and left. When Gerard and I went inside he immediately went up to his room. I went to mine.

Gerard is mad at me. I get why. Not really cause I cheated on Pete or anything. Cause I lied to him so that he’d take my side. So he’d pity me. I manipulated him. But now he’s mad. This has never happened before. I mean, he’s been mad obviously, but never like this. He’s never avoided me. I don’t know how to handle this. When I don’t know how to handle something I drink. Not a perfect solution but it’s what I know. I pull out a bottle of vodka from under my bed. I take a swig from the bottle and lay on the bed. That continues for a while, drinking and not moving. Maybe I do it for minutes. Or hours. Who knows? It’s dark now, and the bottles half empty. I’m not thinking straight when I stand up, swaying a bit, then walk to Gerard’s room.

I don’t know if he’s awake, but I knock on his door anyway. After a bit it opens. He looks at me, face blank, then asks,

“What do you want?”

“I wanna say ‘m sorry for lying to you,” I slur, “Cause, like, I don’t think you’re mad ‘bout the whore or whatever. But, like, cause I used you to make me feel better or somethin.”

“Are you drunk?” Gerard asks, now looking concerned.

“No,” I lie.

“You sound drunk.”

“‘M not!”

“You smell drunk.”

“Only a little!”

“Sure,” He says going to close the door, but I stick my foot out, losing my balance a little.

“No, Gee! C’mon! ‘M really sorry!” I plead, “I know I fucked up, but I can’t handle you bein mad! Cause you’re, like, the only thing I still got. I don’t wanna fight!”

“Go to sleep, Mikes. We’ll talk in the morning, okay?”

I nod, “M’kay.”

When I go to my room I dive onto the bed. I can’t fall asleep. I think about calling Pete before I remember I don’t have his number. Seems stupid. I should get his number. He probably won’t want me to have it but I’m friends with his friends now. We gotta talk, right? I’ll get his number next time I see him.

***

For the second day in a row I wake up hungover. I walk downstairs to get some water and advil. When I walk into the kitchen I see Gerard sipping his coffee at the counter. When he notices me he asks,

“How’s your head?”

“Fuck off,” I mumble as I fill a glass with water.

“You wanna talk?”

I look at him and move my glass from the sink. “Sure,” I reply, walking to the cabinet with the advil. I swallow the pill with some water then go to sit next to Gerard at the granite counter.

“Why’d you lie to me?” He asks softly. He sounds much kinder than yesterday at the beach.

“I was ashamed. I didn’t… I know it doesn’t make much sense, but I didn’t want to cheat on Pete. I was ashamed so I didn’t tell you. Partly because I didn’t want you to think I was a fuck up, too, and I think partly cause I wanted to feel like it wasn’t all my fault,” I admit.

“If you didn’t want to then why the hell would you cheat on him?” Gerard questions.

“I was… scared, I guess. I mean, we couldn’t die. I didn’t know Pete couldn’t either so I thought… I thought it’d end anyway so why not just fuck it all up? Save myself the heartbreak,” I say honestly, then add, “Didn’t really work.”

“I think I get why you did all this Mikey. I… we’re in a hard situation that you don’t know how to handle. No one does. Not you. Not me. Not Pete. You freaked out, made a bad choice, and didn’t want to lose the one consistent thing you had left, right?”

“Yeah,” I agree. Gerard’s got me all figured out, hasn’t he?

“Well, I get it and I forgive you. I don’t like fighting,” He finishes and gives me a quick hug. “I’ve gotta go to work now,” He says, standing up and leaving his coffee cup for me to clean up. I guess that’s fair. I take it over to the sink and leave it there. I stare out the kitchen window for a while. Not really thinking.

I should probably get job soon. After summer ended I was left without ice cream to scoop. Maybe I could work a real job this time.

***

My phones been buzzing all day. I gave everyone my number yesterday, so this should have been expected, but I don’t want to talk to anyone right now. I’ve been ignoring it till now, but boredom seems to win over and I look. I’ve been added to a group chat. I read the texts

Frnk: Who’d u add?

Gee: Mikey

Pete: I don’t want Mikey to know my number

Beebo: Fuck off Pete

Pete: Ur defending him???

Beebo: He’s my friend

Pete: And I’m not?

Gee: U don’t know the whole story Pete

Pete: I don’t care, he’s a dick

I’ve decided if Pete’s gonna hate me, I’ll hate him too. That’s why i don’t leave the group chat. To be a pissy bitch.

Mikey: right back at u

Pete: At least I don’t fuck prostitutes

Patty cakes: Don’t degrade prostitutes 

Pete: Yeah ur right

Pete: Prostitutes r too good to fuck Mikey

Mikey: u have literally fucked me

Gee: I DIDN’T WANT TO SEE THAT

Gee: MY INNOCENT BROTHER  
Pete: I will deny ever having fucked u

Mikey: u can’t escape me

Pete: But i’ll never stop trying

Wow. What an adorable romantic moment between two lovers. I guess this is the closest me and Pete will come to a promise. At least now we’re talking. Even if it is insults, it’s talking. That’s why I’m doing it. If me and Pete fight we’re still around each other. I’ve gotta make him my enemy if I want him to stay. And I definitely want him to stay.

***

There’s a knock on the door. I groan, not wanting to get up. When I open the door I instinctually begin to close it again, but before I can Pete pushes past me into the hallway, holding a box. He kicks off his shoes and hangs his jacket on the stair railing. Then, as if it’s his house he walks into the kitchen, sets his box down on the counter, and begins making a cup of coffee. I follow him in still trying to process what’s happening.

“What the fuck?” I finally manage.

“Hm?” He turns away from the coffee machine to look at me.

“Why are you in my house… making coffee?”

“What, I can’t just come hang out at my good buddy Mikey Way’s home?”

“You hate me.”

“Okay, maybe I’m here for Gerard?”

“But that would mean putting up with me.”

“Okay, maybe my apartment got flooded and I need a place to stay.”

“Well why here? Why not with Patrick?”

“Cause since we’ve been forced into each other’s lives again I might as well make this shit for you too,” He says with an innocent smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. Why is he so fucking cute? I’m supposed to hate him.

“Believe me, this is shit,” I mutter darkly.

“Then I’m doing my job! Where’s your room?”

“What?” I blink.

“Never mind, I’ll find it on my own,” He says, abandoning his coffee as he grabs his box and heads upstairs. I run after him, tripping over myself. When I reach the second floor he’s standing in front of my door.

“This it?” He asks, nodding towards my room since his hands are full.

“Yes?” I reply reluctantly. What does he want with my room? Is he planning on staying there? That would be interesting.

“Great,” He opens the door walks to my bed and hold the box over it. When he turns it upside town an enormous amount of grass falls onto my bed. Grass? What the actual hell?

“Pete! What the fuck was that for?” I yell, running over to my bed and staring at it uselessly.

“If you don’t know then it doesn’t matter,” He states simply.

I turn to face him, scowling. He just looks back with that grin. I’d really like to punch him right now. He just fucking dumped grass on my bed and told me he was moving in!

“You absolute bitch,” I mutter, grabbing the box and trying to get the grass back in.

He winks at me, fucking _ winks _ , before walking out of my room and downstairs.

“I swear to god, Pete Wentz, I will end you,” I mutter as I continue scooping grass into the box. If Pete’s moving in I’ll be needing a lot of alcohol to deal with this kind of shit.


	8. Like The Sane Abandoned Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PFTW is so good wtf

In all my life there has never been something I was more right about than this: Living with Pete is interesting, and it takes a lot of alcohol to deal with. I spent all of his first week completely drunk. Two days into the second week and I’m still drunk. He hasn’t done anything like the grass incident again, just little things to piss me off. Sometimes he even steals my booze. Today’s one of those days.

“Where is it?” I ask as I storm into the basement, which has become Pete’s makeshift room. Gerard complained about that a lot, since when we first moved here he wanted the basement, but I forced him to take an actual room so maybe I’d see him more. I didn’t.

“Where’s what, Mikes?” Pete asks innocently. 

“My booze, asshat. I know you took it,” I growl, and begin digging through his limited things, looking for it.

“You ever think maybe you have a drinking problem?” Pete asks casually, not getting up from the couch he uses as a bed.

“No, I have a Pete problem,” I mutter, moving on from one box to another.

“I’m honored you consider me a problem, Mikey,” Pete says, pretending to get teary.

As I finish looking through a box filled with Pete’s comic books I spot another box, hidden behind an open closet door. Seems like the most likely place Pete would have hidden my drinks, but before I can look through it Pete comes running over.

“Not that box!” He yells, pulling it away from me. He wraps his arms protectively around it, before going back to the couch and cradling it.

“Why?” I ask, walking towards him, “What’s in that box?”

“None of your business, fuck off,” He mumbles, clutching the box to his chest.

“What, is it like, porn?”

“No.”

“It’s porn isn’t it?”

“Jesus Christ, it’s not porn!” Pete yells, exasperated, “That’s over there,” he points to a box on the arm of the couch.

Does that mean he masturbates on this couch? This is my couch, I don’t want that!

“Whatever,” I sigh, “Just don’t dump it on my bed.”

“Sounds good. Can you leave now?” Pete asks, clearly agitated. Does he really think he has the right to be agitated right now? He’s the one getting jizz on my couch!

“Can I have my booze?”

“I didn’t take it this time.”

“Why don’t I believe you?”

“No, really. Listen man, I want you gone, so if booze it what it takes, why would I keep it from you?” Sounds like something you’d say if you had my booze… I’m onto you, you little bitch.

“You want me gone?” I smirk.

“Duh.”

“Well in that case,” I jump onto the couch next to him, “We’re having a movie night!”

“What? No!” Pete tries to get up but I tackle him. We end up laying on the couch, him underneath me. I grab the remote off the coffee table and turn on the T.V.

“What do you wanna watch?”

“I wanna watch you burn in hell.”

“That’s not on Netflix. How about Moana?”

“Fine.”

“Great!” I put the movie on and we watch. I stay on top of Pete so he can’t run, talking to him every so often to make sure he stays annoyed. 

“Would you just shut the fuck up and let me watch the movie?” He cries after about half an hour.

“Oh, but that’d make you happy,” I reply.

“Someday I’ll figure out how to kill an immortal.”

“And I will welcome death with open arms. I may even run to him,” I say wistfully. 

“Wait, do you, like, actually want to die?” Pete asks, suddenly sounding concerned.

“Sure. I’m 338. I think I’ve been around way to long.”

“Wait, how old were you when we dated?” Pete asks with wide eyes.

“1805… I would have been? ...125 I think.”

“Wait, seriously?” I nod.

“So you knew you were immortal back then?”

“Yeah. That’s part of why I did what I did.”

“What does that mean? You keep saying shit like that. What does it mean?”

I think about what to say for a minute. Should I be honest? Right now Pete seems to be in a fairly good mood. Maybe it’s a good time to tell him. Maybe he’ll forgive me. Finally, I speak, “When we dated… I was… well, I was terrified. I mean, I was immortal, you weren’t. I thought you weren’t, anyway. But I just, for a while I guess I forgot how different I was from you. I forgot I couldn’t really be with you. Not it in the traditional sense. I just ignored it cause I was stupid and in love. But then, one day, it just really hit. Like, I just realized, ‘wow, he’s gonna die one day’ and I just kinda thought maybe if I fucked it all up before then it’d hurt less and be easier to move on. Like, you’d hate me and I could use that to make me forget I loved you? It really didn’t work… I’m sorry.”

Pete’s silent for a minute. He looks deep in thought. I stare down at him and with each passing minute I get more anxious. What if he’s still mad? What if he doesn’t care? I pretty much told him I still love him. He’s gonna reject me. Finally he looks up at me.

“Can you leave?” He asks, quietly, “I-I need to think.”

“Y-Yeah,” I stammer. I feel my stomach sink. I walk upstairs and see Gerard on the living room couch, looking like a ghost in the dark, illuminated by the fireplace. I sit down next to him. He looks over and gives me a sympathetic smile.

“You okay?” He asks as shadows from the flames flicker across his face.

“Did you hear?”

“No, but you look sad. What happened?”

I swallow and lean my head on his shoulder.

“I think I’ve fucked up again.”

“It’ll be okay he says, stroking my hair and wrapping his arm around my shoulder. We sit like this for a while. Me, just silently hurting, Gerard holding me and trying to comfort me. The fire dancing on the burnt wood and across our skin. Pete downstairs doing whatever he does. I fall asleep like this, in my brothers arms like when we were kids and I was afraid of the thunder. I miss that. Only afraid of thunder and not the more unescapable.

***

Pete’s gone. None of his stuff is gone. Just him. I know he’ll be back. I think he’s at Patrick’s. Patrick seems like someone who is good at comforting. Does Pete need comforting? I don’t know. If he does it’s because of me. That really hurts.

Then I remember the box. I know I shouldn’t but I’m really curious. I creep down the basement stairs, as if someone will hear me. Pete’s gone and Gerard’s working. Who’d hear me?

I walk to the couch and there the box is, next to the couch. I take a deep breath in. Why doesn’t Pete want me to see what’s in it? What if I don’t want to know? No, I want to know. It’s probably something stupid. It probably  _ is  _ porn. It won’t make a difference if I know aside from my mind being settled. I crouch down and open the top of the box.

Pictures. It’s all pictures. Some are framed, some aren’t. Why would Pete not want me to see this? I look through the pictures. A lot of him and Patrick and some of the other guys. There are pictures where he has blonde hair, and black hair, and a scene fringe. Then, at the bottom of the box I see it. So that’s why Pete didn’t want me to see this. I take the picture out of the box. It isn’t even a photograph. It’s a drawing. It’s that old. I’m older than photography. 

The drawing is incredibly detailed and realistic so I’m not surprised to see Gerard’s signature at the bottom. He really captured us perfectly. Me and Pete sit together, holding hand and grinning at each other. Pete’s hair is dark and curly, while mine is mousy and straight. Our eyes gleam. We look so much happier. We were. I remember Gerard drawing this. It took forever, but it was a happy day. Those two boys were happy and unaware of the pain to come. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” Pete yells, standing at the foot of the stairs.

“Pete-”

“Are you going through my stuff?” He storms over and when he sees the picture I’m holding he freezes. “I told you not to look in that box!”

“Pete, I’m sorry, I-”

“I don’t want to hear it! You can’t just go through my shit!”

“You through grass on my bed!” I’m yelling too now. We’re both just yelling.

“That was different!”

“It was still shitty!”

“No, it was stupid and cowardly. Now can you get the fuck away from my stuff?” He cries throwing pictures back into the box, before grabbing the drawing from my hand and tearing it right in half.

“Fine!” I yell, leaving the picture. I doesn’t matter, I tell myself as I stomp upstairs. It doesn’t matter, I tell myself as the tears fall down my face. It doesn’t matter, I tell myself as I open up a bottle. I doesn’t matter, I tell myself as the world goes black.


	9. It's Not Loving, It's Just Fucking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this fic just gets worse as it goes on

“Hey, Frank invited all of us to his gig tonight,” Gerard peers through my door, which hasn’t been opened for days, “You interested?”

“Who’s all of us?” I ask.

“Well, me and you, obviously. Ray, Brendon, Ryan, Patrick, and probably some other people-”

“Pete.” I correct him. Other people means Pete.

“Well, him and Pete are friends and all,” Gerard explains.

“I think I’ll stay home,” I grumble. Pete and I haven’t interacted since our fight. He stayed locked in the basement for a few days before moving to Patrick’s. We don’t talk on the group chat, and I think he’s blocked my number.

“C’mon, Mikes. Just cause he’s going doesn’t mean you have to hang out. You can go have a good time and ignore him,” Gerard pleads.

“Gerard, I-”

“I’ll buy you coffee for a week,” He bargains.

I give in at the mention of coffee, “Fine.”

He beams and runs to his room to get ready. That’s insane. Gerard actually giving a shit about how he looks. I guess love does that to you. He’s totally in love with Frank is what I’m saying. And Frank is totally in love with him. They’re both completely oblivious and in love and it’s gross. Love is gross. I wish I didn’t feel it. Then I wouldn’t constantly be thinking about a certain pink haired asshole.

***

When Gerard and I get to the gig it’s already crowded. The band is half way through a song and Frank’s screams fill the room. We make our way through the mess of people and and find our friends bunched together at a table towards the back of the room. Pete isn’t there.

“Gee! You made it!” Brendon shouts and waves us over, “And you brought Mikey! Dude we haven’t seen you in forever! Thought you were dead.”

I laugh awkwardly, “Nope, just antisocial.”

“Well we’re glad you’re out of your cave,” Ray jokes.

Ryan nods, “Yeah, it can’t be healthy to go that long without seeing people.”

“Didn’t you once spend a month in your room binging Supernatural?” Brendon asks.

“That was different. Sam and Dean are people,” Ryan explains.

“Oh yeah, that definitely makes it okay,” Patrick says sarcastically.

They continue talking for a while, joking about Ryan’s introverted tendencies, and Ray’s hair problems, and Patrick’s love of hats. It’s nice to listen and learn about them. I realize how long it’s been since I actually had friends. Or any emotional attachment that wasn’t brotherly. Pete was the last person I’d considered a friend. Now I had four standing around me. One screamin on a stage, too. It was nice. Even if Pete hated me I had my friends. In the month I’d known them I’d become pretty attached to them, and it didn’t feel nearly as bad as I remembered. This made me think, what if it actually hurt less if they died loving you. They died. But they’d still love you. I’d learned that you can’t escape love so easily. Maybe it’s better to just let it happen.

“Mikey?” Ray ask and Brendon snaps his fingers in front of my face.

“You good?” Gerard asks, and I nod.

“I’m hungry, where’s Pete?” Ryan whines.

“Probably fucking around,” Ray sighs.

“What?” Gerard asks confused. I’m confused too.

“Pete was supposed to get us food. It’s been, like, twenty minutes,” Brendon groans.

“I’ll go get some food,” I offer, and no one protests.

“You’re a saint!” Ryan declares as I walk towards the bar. I ask the waitress for a plate of nachos and she disappears. While I wait I look around the room. My eye catches on something pink.

Pete’s making out with a blonde girl wearing a lacy top and a short black skirt. One hand is in her long, curly hair while the other travels up her skirt. I want to look away but I can’t, like I’m in some sort of trance. My eyes stay fixed as I watch him, then he opens his eyes. His brown eyes travel right to mine as he continues making out with the girl. He doesn’t look away either. Just stares at me. I squirm under his gaze, because, god, he’s is hot. He’s watching me with eyes dark and his hand up a girls skirt. 

When the waiter returns with the nachos I grab them off the bar, not breaking eye contact. I don’t look away when I walk back to the table. Neither does he. When I put the food in the center of the table everyone immediately digs in. I only break my gaze when someone calls me.

“Mikey, you alright?” Ray asks me.

“Yeah,” I lie, since no I am not alright because Pete’s eye fucking me but he hates me so am I reading this wrong because it seems like he’s eye fucking me and now I’m horny as hell but if he’s not eye fucking me then this is really awkward and that means I’m horny for no reason which is weird and wow this is bad.

“Okay, you’ve just seemed a little distant tonight,” Ray says.

“Sorry, I’ve had a lot on my mind. I’m fine,” I assure him. He nods and turns back to the nachos which are nearly gone. 

As I listen to Ryan retell the story of the time Patrick accidentally went on a date with an ex-mafia I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket. I take it out and see one message that calms and creates more anxiety simultaneously.

Pete: Meet me in the bathroom

“Hey guys, um, I’m gonna go take a smoke break, so I’ll see you guys later.”

Everyone pretty much ignores what I said, too focused on Ryan’s dramatic narration, only giving me small nods and a short “cool”.

I walk to the bathroom, pushing passed groups of sweating bodies. I step into the men’s room and see Pete leaning against a wall, phone in hand, looking incredibly nonchalant. When he sees me enter his face remains blank as his eyes follow me. He pushes off the wall and walks over to me.

“Wasn’t sure you’d come,” He muttered, now standing a bit close to be platonic.

“Why wouldn’t I? You know me better than that.”

“Dunno. You don’t make much sense.”

“I’m really an open book. You just like to over complicate things.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah. Was when we met. Still seems to be.”

“You know me so well?”

“I used to. You’ve probably changed. Not all of us are scared to move on.”

“And you are?”

“Mhm.”

“Is that why you’re here?”

“Dunno. Maybe I just want to be here.”

“Then can we skip the small talk?”

“Oh, yeah, definitely.”

Then Pete’s pressing me against the wall and kissing me. It’s not like before. Back when we dated every kiss felt like it was this big complicated thing. Now it just felt angry and raw. Like we’re both only here because there’s nowhere else to be. Better than nothing though.

Pete’s hands are tangled in my hair and mine are on his back, pulling him against me. As the kiss deepens Pete grinds against me, getting my dick interested now. Pete moves off my mouth and begins sucking on my neck. As one of his hands travels down to palm me I let out a moan, rubbing against his hand, trying to get more friction.

“You’re so fucking hot, Mikey,” Pete groans pulling away from my neck and moving down to my collar bone, making me let out another sound. “Been wanting to do this for ages.”

“Fuck,” I breath out as his teeth scrape over my skin. “Fuck, Pete, we’re in a public bathroom.”

“That’s fixable.”

***

For the first time in a while I wake up without a hangover. I didn’t get the chance to drink last night. I open my eyes and see Pete asleep next to me. He looks younger like this. He looks even more like he did when we met than usual. We don’t age but the stress of life has certainly had its effects on him. In the morning light he looks beautiful. I wish we could just stay like this forever, laying together without any worries. I wonder if that’s how it’d be if I hadn’t freaked out. I hadn’t cheated. We hadn’t fought. Then maybe this would be happening because we loved each other and not because we were alone. I just want to be with him. He doesn’t want that, though. When I’d told him why I’d cheated, and how I hadn’t moved on, he asked me to leave. This is just a convenient fuck to him.

When his eyes flutter open I look away. I fix my eyes on the door above his head, trying to look deep in thought.

“Hey,” He says, voice thick with sleep.

“Hey,” I reply looking back at him.

“So that happened, didn’t it?” He asks as if he needs confirmation.

“It did,” I say, giving him his confirmation.

“It was… good.”

“Yeah…”

“Wanna do it again?”

“Wait, what?”

“Not, like, a relationship or anything. I’d never do that with you. Just, like, fuck,” Pete shrugs like this really means nothing. Maybe it doesn’t to him, but for me it’s big. I’m fucking in love with the guy and he just told me he doesn’t want anything more than sex with me. That hurts. But not enough for me to say no.

“Sure,” I nod, trying to seem as unbothered as Pete.

“Great. This’ll be fun,” Pete says, planting a quick kiss on my lips before getting out of bed, throwing on his clothes and leaving. Just like that.


	10. Too Fast For You To Figure It Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> s'mores for breakfast improve mental health

About an hour after Pete had left that first morning I’d gotten a text. 

Pete: We should keep this a secret… make things more interesting.

I’d agreed. To be completely honest this all would be fun if it wasn’t Pete. I was fine, maybe even happy, with a secret fuck buddy. I want Pete in a different way. But he wants me this way, so that’s the way I’ll be.

Gerard had come home from Frank’s yelling at me for taking the car last night (which is why he had stayed at Frank’s, too pissed to be around me I guess). I apologized, telling him I hadn’t been feeling good and he accepted that. I hadn’t felt good lying to my brother, but at the same time it really had. Like I had this big important secret no one else could know, and it was my job to protect it. 

Well, now my and Pete have been fucking for a good month. None of our friends have a clue and around them we act like our normal, pissy, selves. We make sure to fight around them at least once a day, which isn’t hard since fucking hasn’t made us any less spiteful. Pete still hates me, he just appreciates my dick. I sorta hate him back but there’s also love on my end. I try to ignore it.

There’s been a few times we’ve almost been caught. Times we’ve decided to go at it in a place that’s just a little too public, and someone could walk in at any moment. Those are some of the best times, really.

Once, we all went to the mall together. In a clothing store Pete decided we should fuck in a changing room. We had to stay super quiet cause the walls were practically non existent. Right as I had climaxed Frank had knocked on the door asking if everything was alright.

“I’m fine,” Pete called, stilling his movements before I could come.

“You’re taking forever.”

“Yeah these jeans are just really tight,” Pete says, chuckling at his wording.

“Okay…” And then he walked off.

Another time Ryan walked in on me blowing Pete in his kitchen. He didn’t notice though, cause he was to busy pressing Brendon against the counter and kissing him hungrily. Pete and I had just sorta watched for a minute before quietly leaving. When we’d gotten onto the street and Pete had burst out laughing. Without thinking he’d hugged me and said breatly,

“This is fucking great!”

Today our friends decided to get together at my house. Me and Pete already had something planned so no one would get suspicious of our rendezvouses. This morning I’d told Gerard I felt sick. While he and the guys hung out I’d stay up in my room. A couple minutes in Pete would say he’s gotta help his friends out with something in the next town over. Then, he’d go up to my room and we fuck. Sounds pretty good to me.

As planned Pete’s in my room about fifteen minutes after everyone arrives. When he walks in I look up from the book I’d been reading, laying it on the bedside table. Pete walks over to the bed where I sit leaning against pillows. As he climbs up and straddles me he asks quietly,

“Interesting book?”

“Not really,” I mutter as he kisses down from the corner of my mouth to my jaw.

“No? You more interested in this?” He asks darkly before moving to suck on my neck. He’s teasing me, that bastard. Just fuck me, that’s what you’re here for.

“Can you get to the point?” I ask impatiently as he starts grinding down.

“Sure thing,” He winks before moving up to kiss me on the lips. I open my mouth to let his tongue in. I let out a low moan and he moves his hand down. Once they reach my pants he pulls away and looks at me, eyes dark.

“These are in the way.”

He sits back, at the end of the bed, so I can pull my pants down, lifting my hips to make it easier. I get them and my boxers down to my thighs and he begins taking off his shirt. Then his jeans. Then his boxers and he’s naked. He moves on to finish pulling my jeans down and tosses them to the side. After that I do the same with my shirt and we’re finally both free of our clothes.

He moves back on top of me and stares at me for a moment. His hand wraps around my cock and I shutter. When he starts pumping he leans in close to my face.

“Immagine,” He says, voice low and dark, “You hadn’t cheated on me,” he moves his hand faster, “And I never got to see who you really were,” He kisses my jaw, “Wouldn’t this all be so much better?”

I nod desperately, wanting him to stop talking and just fuck me. I’d really like him to not talk. Especially about this. It’s not like I’m happy I cheated.

“You fucked that up, though, didn’t you?” I nod again, getting more and more needy. Then his hand stops and I whine is protest, bucking my hips up to get more friction. “Now you’re just a quick fuck, aren’t you?”

“Pete, god, please just fuck me,” I plead.

“Feeling a little desperate?” He asks, letting his thumb trace across my slit, making me gasp.

“Jesus Christ, would you stop teasing?”

“Are you desperate?” He asks again.

“Yes, I’m fucking desperate! Would you stop now?” I beg.

“Fine,” He relents. Before he can do anything, though, the door is opening. We both stare at it helplessly as Gerard asks,

“Mikey you feeling-” He doesn’t finish. He stares at us, wide eyed, and we stare back. Pete’s on top of me with his hand on my dick, and neither of us are clothed. This is not something I want my brother to see.

“Mikey, what the fuck?” He finally cries, letting go of the doorknob, where his hand had remained rigid before. Now it was waving uselessly at his side.

“Um…”

“You know what, nope. Nope, nope, nope. Don’t wanna know!” He cries before slamming the door and going downstairs.

Once he’s gone I look back up at Pete. His face is nearly the same color as his hair and his eyes are the size of saucers, like a deer in headlights.

“Did he sound angry?” I ask.  
“A little?”

“We should… stop.”

“Yeah.”

Pete climbs off of me and we put our clothes back on. Thankfully, older brothers walking in on you is a real boner-killer. We head downstairs to look for Gerard, hopefully explain what’s happening and make sure he doesn’t tell the others. Also probably to blame Pete.

***

Mikey doesn’t look at me. After we got dressed he just kinda… avoided me. I think he’s ashamed the Gerard caught us. Gerard has talked about that happening a lot though. Mikey seems pretty used to getting caught. Is it me? He was pretty willing to keep this a secret. Why do I even care? I kept it a secret too. And it’s just sex. It’s just fun. We don’t… we hate each other. So why does it hurt that Mikey won’t meet my eyes now?

When we get to the living room our friends are all gathered around. Ray and Patrick are sitting on the couch, Frank on the arm, Ryan in a chair and Brendon on the floor leaning against it. Gerard leans against the wall, looking at me and Mikey coldly. He’s the only one who’s noticed us. We stand awkwardly for a moment and I just wish I could leave. Escape Gerard’s stony glare and just curl up with Mikey somewhere warm. That’s stupid.

“Pete, you’re back,” Ryan calls, now realizing I’ve been standing here, “And Mikey.”

“Hey,” Mikey mumbles weakly. He keeps his eyes on the floor, even though no one seems to know what just happened upstairs. Mikey’s never been like this. He’s never acted guilty after we’ve fucked, even if we’d nearly been caught. He’d always seemed to get high off that. Now he looked small and fragile.

“You feeling better? Gerard told us you were sick,” Ray asks, concerned.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Mikey’s voice stays low and quiet.

“Too bad,” I ask, deciding being an asshole to Mikey might work as a cover, “Would’ve been nice if it killed you.”

“Why are you always such a dick, Pete?” Frank asks, irritated.

“Cause he doesn’t want us knowing he-”

“Piss off Gerard,” I snap, before he can finish. I don’t want anyone to know. Especially Patrick. He knows me too well. He’ll figure this out if he knows.

“Wait, now what?” Brendon questions.

“Nothing,” I answer quickly.

“He doesn’t want us to know he’s fucking Mikey,” Gerard states.

Mikey freezes up, staring at Gerard, his cheeks going pink. I, on the other hand, get pissed.

“You don’t get to say that!” I shout, “What the fuck? I’m not fucking Mikey!”

“Don’t deny it, I saw!”

“Well maybe we didn’t want people to fucking know!”

“Wait, you guys are back together?” Ryan asks.

“No,” Mikey says.

“It’s just sex,” I add.

“You’re fuck buddies?” Frank pries.

“Buddies would be stretching it,” Mikey mumbles.

“We still hate each other,” I remind them.

“Then why fuck?” Frank continues.

“He’s got a good dick,” I explain.

“How long?” Gerard asks.

“About a month,” Mikey answers.

“And you didn’t tell us?” He demands.

“It’s just sex,” I repeat, “You guys don’t need to know.”

“Mikey’s my brother!”

“You don’t need to know everyone I hook up with!”

“I do when it’s him!”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I yell, now offended.

“It means you two shouldn’t even be around each other, and now you’re screwing! Do you know how that’s gonna end?”

“Orgasms?” I try.

“No! Heartbreak!” 

“Or,” I say, “Orgasms.”

“Listen Pete,” Gerard growls, stepping close, “You may think it’s ‘just sex’ but it’s not. So stop. Don’t get into this again.”

“It’s none of your fucking business what Mikey and I choose to do. We can have sex if we want.”

“You really want to do this again?”

“This isn’t last time Gerard. This is about hips, not hearts. I’ve been around long enough to know which is better. For me.”

“Pete, I’m serious-”

“So am I!” I shout without thinking about what I say next, “I’m fucking two hundred, I know how to let sex be sex!”


	11. I Found The Cure To Growing Older

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i might get goats. thats the best my life will probably ever get.

Everyone’s looking at Pete. They’re all just confused. Well, Mikey and Gerard don’t seem confused, more pissed. But the rest of us? We’re lost. I mean, it seemed like a joke. “I’m two hundred” Like when a twenty year old says “god, I feel so old!” but then Gerard went silent. Weirdly silent. Like Pete had told him his mother died. Then it seemed less like a joke.

“Why are we looking at Pete?” Brendon asks, always helpfully asking questions for his fellow lost idiots.

“Yeah, Gerard it’s a joke. Why’d you freeze up like that?” Ryan laughs uncomfortably in the strangely tense room.

“It’s nothing,” Gerard mutters, shoulders drooping as he relaxes a bit.

“Gerard,” I hear Mikey whisper, “Can-Can we tell them?”

“What?” Gerard whisper shouts. I think I’m the only one who can hear them, aside from Pete, cause everyone else seems to be trying to return to normal conversation.

“They’re our friends,” Mikey pleads, “I want to tell them.”

“I’m with Mikey,” Pete chimes in, joining them in a huddle.

“Fuck off, Wentz,” Gerard hisses.

“Hey, I’m a part of this too! I want to tell them!”

“They won’t take it well,” Gerard argues.

Pete shakes his head, “I’ve known them longer than you. They’ll be fine.”

Gerard looks like he’s weighing his options for a bit before relenting, “Fine,” He mutters.

“Great!” Pete exclaims, before turning to the group and saying loudly, “Hey, guys we wanna say something.”

Everyone turns to the three, looking curiously interested. I, for one, am itching to know. This seems pretty important. 

“So, it’s come to my attention you don’t know how old we are,” Pete announces. This is about their ages? I already know how old Pete is, though. He continues, “So, this is kinda weird. Like you think we’re your age, right? Well, I mean, we sorta are? We look your age I guess.”

“What?” Patrick squints, trying to understand Pete’s words.

“Well, basically what I’m saying is I’m 239.”

“Huh?” Brendon asks, looking entirely lost.

“I was born in 1779. I, like, can’t die,” Pete explains.

“Oh, so it’s a joke?” Ryan clarifies.

“No…” Gerard says, “It’s… It’s real. I can’t die either. I’m 341.”

“I’m 338,” Mikey chimes in.

“Guys, the joke fell flat,” I say.

“It’s not a joke,” Gerard insists.

“Yeah, here watch this,” Mikey adds, walking to the kitchen. When he comes back he has a butcher knife, which he proceeds to slam into Pete’s stomach.

Everyone freezes, and a few people scream. Pete doubles over, muttering, “Motherfucker!” clutching his wound. After a minute he straightens up again, shirt torn and bloody, but skin underneath it fine.

“Did you just want an excuse to stab me?” He asks Mikey, who nods cheerily.

“Okay, so you really can’t die,” Ray whispers.

“Yeah,” Gerard nods.

“Dude, that’s so fucking cool!” I shout.

“Yeah! Can I stab Pete, too?” Ryan asks excitedly.

“Go head,” Mikey says, holding knife out as Pete cries, “What the hell Ryan? No! Why would you want that?”

“You’ve been pissing me off lately,” Ryan mutters darkly.

As everyone gawks I see Gerard slip away towards the corner. He doesn’t like being the center of attention. He seems satisfied watching Mikey and Pete being questioned. I walk over to the corner and lean against the wall next to him.

“So you’re, like, ten times our age, huh?”

“Yeah,” Gerard nods.

“Was it hard to say?” I ask, thinking of my own secret. One I really want to tell Gerard right now.

“Yeah. I kept thinking ‘they’ll think you’re crazy’ ‘they won’t want to be your friend’. I’ve never told anyone before. I was really scared,” He admits.

“Was it worth it?”

“Yeah. I… I feel better now. Like this giant weight’s been lifted off my shoulders. It’s nice knowing I can trust people too.”

“I’m gay,” I blurt out, then. When I realized what I said I scramble to make it less awkward, “Sorry, I just- You were talking about how it felt good. Not having that secret. I thought-”

“It’s fine, Frankie,” Gerard laughs, “I’m glad you told me.”

“Yeah,” I agree, “I don’t know why I didn’t sooner.”

“You gonna tell the others?”

“I dunno…”

“Most of them are queer, it won’t really matter to them.”

“Wait who?” How did Gerard know this and I didn’t?

“I mean Ryan and Brendon are obviously dating. Mikey and Pete are fucking so there’s them. I’m gay as fuck. Ray and Patrick are straight but they could care less.”

Gerard’s gay? Gerard’s gay. I’m gay. We’re both gay. Do I have a shot? Wait, Ryan and Brendon are dating?


	12. So We Only Lose A Little

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my guitar isn't tuning right

Tonights a quiet night. Gerard’s gone. He’s made it a habit to go off to Frank’s everytime he sees Pete come over. Now that he knows we’re fucking he pretty much avoids Pete. And me a bit. He doesn’t like us together. Not that we’re together. Pete may be asleep in my bed but not cause it’s my bed. He’s asleep here because he knows I’ll give him what he wants and not ask for more. He’d be somewhere else if someone offered. Still, I feel comforted by the fact that, before he fell asleep, Pete wrapped his arms around me and pulled my in tight. He wasn’t thinking. I think that makes it better.

In the darkness Pete’s hair stands out, almost glowing. Without thinking I place a gently kiss on top of his head. He doesn’t stir. I want to do something so bad, but I keep worrying he’s awake and he’ll hear. I can barely see him, but I can feel him, warm against my skin like he used to be. His arms are wrapped around my waist and mine around his. Our legs tangled together under the blanket and our chests press together. With our breathing matched this feels like a cliche romance, except for one thing: We aren’t together. Well, maybe that is cliche but not in the way I wish it was. I want us to be a cute cliche, kissing each other goodbye when we leave for work, making pancakes together at 3AM, cuddling on the couch watching movies, and making our friends gag at our very presence. I don’t want to be ‘just sex’. I’d tell Pete that if I didn’t know he’d ignore it. I’d tell Pete I just want to stop, cause it hurts too much to be close and not have him, but I need him however I can get him. I’m just seriously fucked.

“Pete,” I whisper, “you awake?”

Silence.

“Pete?” I ask a bit louder.

Silence.

“I love you,” I whisper, as quiet as possible. If he is awake then he won’t have heard. I mean, probably.

***

Mikey’s gone when I wake up. The bed’s still warm where he lay, though, so he left only a bit ago. I get up and find some clothes in Mikey’s closet. I have my own clothes but I wanna wear sweats right now. I take an Iron Maiden shirt and  pair of black sweatpants. Once I’m dressed I go downstairs, trying not to think about what I heard last night. It was just a stupid dream. 

When I walk into the kitchen I see Mikey making coffee. He’s got two mugs.

“Hey,” I say, and he startles, turning around and relaxing when realizing it’s me.

“Oh, hey,” he mumbles, he mumbles a lot, “I was making coffee. Want some?”

“Sure,” I nod, sitting at the counter and watching him pour the hot liquid in the mugs. It feels so domestic. Just in our pajamas (actually I’m wearing Mikey’s pajamas, which sorta adds to it) and having coffee together. Honestly, that’s what I want. I want to be with Mikey, more than fucking anything, but I don’t trust him. He cheated before. He told me it was because he was scared, and I want to believe him, but it’s hard. My best option seems to be keeping things between us completely below the belt.

Mikey hands me the cup and sits down next to me. He stays silent and so I do too. We don’t have to talk. Not that I want to. Not that he wants to. We hate each other, why talk? I think of last night. It had to have been a dream, right? Mikey hates me. He’s made that clear. Sure sometimes he’ll talk about our past in a rather fond manner but that doesn’t mean anything. You can have good memories of you enemies, right? Wow, I’m fucking pathetic. Completely in love with my ex, who hates me enough to have cheated, and trying to convince myself that I hate him too.

“I wanna stop,” Mikey blurts out suddenly.

“You-what?” I ask, shocked. He wants to stop what? Fucking? This is a good deal, why would he want to stop?

“I don’t want to do this anymore. I-This doesn’t feel good,” He stammers.

“It doesn’t feel good?” I repeat, “Why agree in the first place then?”

“Doesn’t matter. I want to stop now.”

“C’mon Mikey, this is a good thing we’ve got! We both feel good without any commitment! You don’t do commitment!” I argue. I can’t just stop! This is all I’ve got, fucking Mikey is the closest I can get to what I really want. Now he wants to stop?

“But I don’t feel good!”

“How? It’s sex! That’s good!”

“Not with you!” He admits.

“What?” It’s starting to hurt. Not being enough for him. He doesn’t like being with me in any way, I guess. That really hurts.

“I-I don’t just want to be a casual fuck, Pete!” He cries, looking pained by the words, “I agreed at first because I was desperate, but this isn’t good!”

“I don’t understand what you’re saying,” I cry. He acts like the words mean something but it all just sounds like ‘you aren’t enough’ to me.

“Jesus, you just won’t fucking get it! I’m fucking in love with you and you just see me as a warm body, that’s why I can’t deal with this!” The, he freezes, like he hadn’t meant to say that.

I blink. “You’re-you’re what?”

“Don’t make me say it again,” He whispers, anger vanishing and turning to shame, “please.”

“You’re in love with me?” He nods weakly.

Fuck.

Just fuck.


	13. If I Woke Up Next To You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've been binging danny phantom for the last few days. i spend my time well

I’ve really fucked up. I told Pete I loved him. I was angry, it just came out. All I wanted to do was call everything off, but no, I ran my big mouth. Maybe if I hadn’t said that I could take things back. If I’d gotten too lonely I could bring Pete back and we’d sleep together and leave it at that. Now Pete’s definitely gone. Gone, gone, gone. 

He’s been staring at me for a bit, like he can’t believe I’d said it. I can’t believe it either. I can’t meet is eyes, I just keep them glued to the ground and wait for him to leave or yell or hit or anything. Anything aside from what he does.

When he lifts my chin to make me look him in the eye I feel my heart stop. For the first time in two hundred years he looks at me with soft eyes. I study them, looking for any anger or hate or something that’ll tell me he’s joking. I can’t find any of that, though. They just seem genuine. That scares me. Then he leans in. That scares me. Our lips meet. That scares me. It’s all terrifying, and it’s all familiar. Not like it was when we had kissed because we were angry and alone. When he tasted like alcohol or cigarettes or someone else. Now he just tastes like Pete, whatever that means. He tastes like he did back when we first dated. He tastes like he did when we fell in love. That terrifies me more than anything.

Then, he’s pulling away, too soon, and our eyes meet again. He stares at me for what feels like forever. I feel a little awkward, but his eyes aren’t cold like they usually are, which eases me.

“You remember the grass?” He finally asks.

“Yeah, you dumped it on my bed,” I recall.

“Yeah, that was… I didn’t know how to tell you at the time, so I thought ‘grass’” Pete explains as if that makes everything clearer.

“Huh?”

“Well… I… um, grass pretty much symbolized gay love… and I’m gay… and I wanted to tell you... I love you, but I didn’t-Didn’t want you to know. Grass.”

“Oh,” I say simply. I can’t really form thoughts right now. Pete just told me he loved me. I think? I’m kinda lost.  
“Can you say something else?” Pete asks anxiously.

“Sorry, I’m kind of… shocked. You dumped grass on my bed because you love me?”

“Yeah…”

“I-I thought you hated me.”

“I was mad about what you’d done. I never really got over it, I guess, so I just always thought of you as ‘that cheating bitch’. Then you told me why you did it and I convinced myself you were lying. That you just wanted to hurt me or something. I dunno,” Pete sighs.

“But… you don’t hate me?”

“No. I love you.”

“I-I love you too.”

“What are we gonna do about that?”

“What do you wanna do?”

***

“Hey, Mikey!” I call as I push open the front door, “I’m home!” No answer.

I shut the door and hang my coat on the stair railing. 

“Mikey?” I shout louder. He can’t have left. I mean, he  _ could  _ have but he doesn’t like leaving his room. Plus, he doesn’t have a car so couldn’t get far. I’m not really worried about him but he always acknowledges me when I come home. I’m more worried he’s mad at me. I’ve sorta been ignoring him since I found out he and Pete having ‘just sex’. It’s just been weird. 

I run up the stairs and to his door. It’s shut. When I knock there’s no response. I debate whether I should open it, if Mikey’s mad that might make it worse, but decide it can’t go that badly.

Behind the door, Mikey lays sleeping in his bed with Pete wrapped around him. They’re both fully clothed. That seems so… coupley? Way too couple for them. Do fuck buddies cuddle? Is that included? Does it cost extra? I don’t have much money but I want a fuck/cuddle buddy. What’s the retail price?

Pete shifts and a I startle, but he doesn’t wake. He pulls Mikey closer and nuzzles into his shoulder. This is all so pure for them. They’re literal fuck buddies. But they’re sleeping wrapped around each other like if they let go the world will end. I think Pete’s even wearing Mikey’s pajamas. What the hell going on? 

I decide to leave and let them rest in peace. With that song now stuck in my head I go downstairs and put on Once More With Feeling as I wait for the two not-lovers to wake up.

***

When I wake up it looks to be about noon. There’s light streaming through the crack in my curtains. It gives everything a slight glow. I look over to Pete. In this light he looks stunning. He always does. He’s still asleep. He looks peaceful, off in his own world. I wonder what that worlds like. Am I in that world? I hope. I wonder if we can live forever in that world. I wonder what Pete actually thinks of immortality. I realize we never talked about it much.

I kiss him gently. His eyes flutter open and he grins, kissing back lazily. When he pulls away he’s still smiling.

“Good morning,” He says.

“It’s noon.”

“Whatever. Good afternoon makes me sound like an old aristocrat from the 1800’s.”

“What?”

“I dunno.”

He kisses me again, then just stays there, with our foreheads and noses touching.

“Do you want to live forever?” I ask quietly.

“Hm?”

“You’ve never really told me what it was like for you,” I explain, “I wanna know more about what happened after we broke up.”

“Oh, well… I guess, I don’t want to live  _ forever  _ but it’s kinda cool, seeing the world change,” Pete starts, “For a while I hated it, though. Like, it felt sick thinking I’d have to keep going.”

“When’d you realize you couldn’t die?”

“When I was, I think 27, I… Well, I tried to kill myself. It didn’t work, even though I’d lost like, all my blood. I just didn’t die. I wasn’t completely sold then, like maybe I was lucky, but like, eventually I realized I was seventy and hadn’t aged. Then I kinda knew,” He sighs.

“Wait, 27? That was…”

“When we met. Yeah.”

“Was it because of me?”

“No. It was a bit before we met.”

I don’t really know what to say so I just hug Pete tightly. He hugs back and buries his head in my shoulder. As I stroke his hair I hear his whisper,

“Can we just pretend it didn’t happen? I don’t feel that way anymore. It just makes me feel guilty.” He sounds a little choked up from this.

“Okay,” I whisper back, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

I think if I don’t fuck everything up again this’ll be okay. If I get to spend my immortality with Pete then I think I’d actually enjoy it. For once I’m actually happy I can’t die. I don’t say that, though. I don’t know why.


	14. I'm Supposed To Love You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> last real chapter. the next one is just a shitty epilogue

After what seems like forever (a good kind of forever) Pete and I finally get up for breakfast.

“It’s two in the afternoon, Pete.”

“Well we didn’t eat breakfast! Pancakes aren’t lunch!”

We head to the kitchen and start making the pancakes Pete had been insistent on making. Really I’m making them while Pete fucks around, pulling things out of drawers and hopping on and off the counter. I swear to god he’s like a five year old. 

“You guys are up?” Gerard asks, emerging from the basement with an half full bowl of popcorn, indicating he’s been watching something.

“Yeah,” I reply, “What were you watching?”

“Buffy. I’m on season four. God, I’d like to punch Riley in the face,” Gerard grits.

Pete picks up a pair of scissors from a drawer and fiddles with them. “Don’t we all,” He says wistfully.

“So, can I ask something?” Gerard questions as he takes a handful of popcorn and stuffs it in his mouth.

“Sure,” I reply. Out of the corner of my eye I see Pete set down the scissors and disappear into the living room. 

“What’s up with you two?”

“What’d you mean?” I ask, finishing the pancakes and putting them on plates.

There’s a crash, followed by, “Mikey, I broke your lamp!”

“Goddamnit, Pete,” I sigh, and Pete walks back into the kitchen holding a lampshade.

“This parts fine,” He declares happily.

“How fucking old are you?” Gerard asks.

“Somewhere between 6 and 350,” Pete replies, placing the lampshade on my head. “It’s a hat!” He laughs. This man has lived through both fucking world wars. Jesus Christ.

“Okay, so seriously,” Gerard says, “What’s up with you two?”

“What?” Pete asks.

“You’re being so…” Gerard thinks for a minute, “Coupley! I mean, you’re making pancakes and Pete’s giving you a hat and not insulting you at every given opportunity. And you were cuddling in  _ clothing _ . I don’t think those are things fuck buddies do.”

“Oh,” I say, realizing how different we’ve been acting. I definitely like it more than constant fighting. “We’re, um…” Fuck, what are we? We both admitted to loving each other so we’ve gotta be something.

“We’re dating,” Pete finishes with a grin, wrapping his arm around my shoulder and pulling me close to him. I smile at the ground, blushing a bit. We’re dating. Me and Pete. Pete said so himself. We’re really together. And now I know I won’t fuck it all up. It’s too important to even let that be a possibility. 

“Wait, really?” Gerard gapes.

“Yeah,” I confirm with a smile, because yeah. We’re together.

“I thought you were still pissed about Mikey cheating,” Gerard turns to Pete.

“I mean, I was. I still am,” He admits, “But I can understand why Mikey did it. I’ve felt that shit too. And I know he’s changed. I just… I really love him. I want to try and make this work. We’ve got all of time to do it, so why not?” He’s blushing and grinning, and so am I.

“Wow, you two are disgustingly cute,” Gerard groans.

“Don’t worry. Someday you can be disgustingly cute with Frank. Not more than us but you can try,” I remind him. Pete giggles and kisses my cheek.

“Okay, ew, PDA. I’m going downstairs,” Gerard cries as he disappears back into the basement with his popcorn.

Me and Pete laugh and I say, “Pancakes?” He nods enthusiastically and we grab the plates holding the battery goodness. As Pete sits next to me and dowses his breakfast in syrup I get lost in my head. I’m thinking of Pete obviously. How lucky am I that the guy I love not only loves me back, but can love me back for the rest of time? I always thought that was a curse but Pete really makes it seem okay. Ideal, even. Wow. He’s been back in my life all of six months and he’s already made me so much better. Guess love will do that to you.

“Do you think there’s a way to make someone immortal?” Pete asks as he eats his pancakes, “Like, a magic spell or a ritual or something?”

“Magic isn’t real,” I reply.

“How do you know? We can’t fucking die, that seems like magic to me.”

“Well why do you care anyway?”

“Well…” Pete sounds embarrassed as he admits, “I was thinking about our friends. I don’t want them to die.”

“Neither do I, Pete, but immortality is pretty shit.”

“When you’re alone,” Pete counters, “If you have someone it’s okay. We could just have an immortal friend group. It’d be nice.”

“Well, we don’t know how to do it anyway,” He seems to deflate a little. “We’ll just make the most of what we got, okay?” I try to comfort him, pulling him in close and wrapping my arms around him. He slumps against me, defeatedly.

“I’ve got you, right?” He asks.

“You’ve always got me.”

“Then, I think I’m okay,” I feel him smile against my chest. “You’ve got me too,” He adds after a moment. I place a kiss on top of his head. I’ve got him. He’s got me. We’ve got each other. This isn’t all bad.

Pete and I, we’re pretty special it seems. Sure, we’ve been cursed to live forever. We’ve been cursed to love forever. I love Frank. I love Ray. I love Brendon and Ryan. I love Patrick. I’m not gonna stop loving those five. Their gonna die. Anyone who lives forever will have that. Sooner or later they’ll love. But I also love Gerard. And Pete. Those two, they love forever too. We can stay together after all else has fallen apart. That’s special. Maybe we can find a way to take our friends with us. We’re selfish like that. We’d make them feel like us just to keep our love in check, but maybe we’re enough to make them feel okay without death? I never thought I’d be enough. Pete makes me feel like enough, though. If our friends could live forever with us I think we’d be enough. I know Gerard’s enough for Frank. Pete’s enough for Patrick. Brendon and Ryan are enough for eachother. Everyone’s enough for Ray, who just loves us all. I smile when I realize that I’m enough for Pete. I think an immortal friend group would work, as long as it’s us. We’ll see someday. Maybe.  We’ll try.


	15. And In The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a shitty ending to a shitty fic. its very unsatisfying but i'm too lazy to fix it. enjoy

Everyone had an ending. Some of them maybe weren’t as satisfying as we’d like them to be, but we all had an ending. Sometimes they change, too, when new things happen. These are the endings so far.

Brendon and Ryan, despite what everyone thought, didn’t last. Ryan left, and went to live with his friends Jon and Spencer. We didn’t see much of him after that. Don’t know what happened to him. Hope he made something of himself. Brendon was pretty fucked up over it for a while, but then he met Sarah. She makes him happy. It’s nice to see that. He hadn’t been happy since Ryan, but he was back in love, and it was beautiful.

Gerard and Frank fell in love, just as we all knew they would. It was beautiful. We all thought they’d really be together forever. Not like Brendon and Ryan, but really forever. They’d spent years doing research. They never learned what made someone immortal. They learned how to make Gerard mortal, though. They did. Don’t think Gerard could have lived without Frank, so he gave up his immortality. They got married. Beautiful. All they’re friends were there, except Ryan, and I was best-man. Then, a week later, they died in a car crash. It hurt. I think they’d be happy though. So it’s fine.

Patrick adopted two kids. Tyler and Josh. They’re fourteen now, and they’ve been living with Patrick for a good eight years. They’ve pretty much become everyone’s sons. It’s nice. Patrick takes good care of them. And everyone else. When Pete is going through one of his episodes Patrick helps with what I can’t. When Brendon’s anxiety gets too much Patrick is there. When I go back into my self-destructive habits Patrick will just listen to what I need to say. He’s strong. I don’t think the rest  of us are there for him enough. But, still, he’ll never leave us hanging. Especially his band. Him, Pete, and two guys, Joe and Andy. They make up Fall Out Boy. That’s really gonna go somewhere. They’ll be great.

Ray has already went on to do great things. He became a famous guitarist out in LA. We don’t see him as often anymore, he’s busy a lot. We’re all really proud of him. He’s making a difference. Like Patrick, he’s always there for us, though. Even when he’s busy, he’ll put whatever he’s doing aside to help one of his friends. We really don’t deserve him.

And then there’s Pete and I. We’re doing fine. We’re engaged. We’re not always perfect, though. Sometimes one of us will fuck up. I’ll take too many pills again, or Pete will stop getting out of bed. Sometimes we get angry. Sometimes we fight. We always work it out, though. We love each other. After Gerard and Frank died I got bad. Pete took care of me. He never judged me when I’d collapse after too many drinks, or make fun of me when I’d break into tears. He was calm and caring. I’m thankful for him. I love him. 

So I guess those are our endings. At least for now.  I’m happy with them. Most of them anyway. Maybe the ones that aren’t so final. The ones that aren’t set. Yeah, I like those. I can change those. I like being able to change things. I don’t like change. I guess I just like the assurance that if I ever do want it, it’ll be there. Yeah. Right now I don’t want change, though. Right now is good. Right now is good.


End file.
